The weeks flew by. Before long, I realized that it had been over two months since Ron had woken up. Unnoticed in my blind misery, summer had begun to wane, and we were headed toward September.
It had always been my favorite month of them all. I could remember all the times on the train, flying along the countryside back to Hogwarts, my favorite place in all of England. All those long rides, sitting in our favorite compartment, eating Jelly Slugs, occasionally patrolling the corridor and putting Crabbe in detention. Those were the times that I remembered above all others, and beyond all others. They were the times with my friends – the ones who would love me through thick and thin. Whenever the leaves began to turn on the trees and a frostbitten air flowed through the cracks under the door, my mind would go back to Hogwarts, the most blessed of all establishments.
“Ron, shh! You’ll wake the entire castle!” I hissed, shoving him into the wall.
He backed off of it, pretending to be hurt. “Hermione,” he said, resting his hand on the wall, “do you have any idea how thick these walls are?”
I scowled at him. “Well,” I said, anticipating an old joke, “they’re probably not as thick as Goyle’s skull, but as we’re supposed to be responsible, we’d better not risk it!”
Ron smiled. In all seriousness, it was more like a smirk, but it was dark in the corridor. “But we’re prefects!” he mocked, putting a few more paces between us. “We can do whatever we want!” He puffed out his chest and spoke in a normal voice. “I bet,” he said loudly, “that I could hex you and wouldn’t even get detention!” As he spoke, he brandished his wand.
My hand flew to the ready, although I knew he was only playing. “Ronald Weasley,” I said, stage-whispering, “if you don’t put your wand back in your robes right now, I’ll hex you.”
He pretended to whimper, but didn’t put his wand back in its place. My sly smile was concealed by the darkness, as I brought my wand out of my robes.
“Rictusempra!” I cried, forgetting how loud I could be. The jet of silvery light hit him with an immense force, and I grinned, knowing victory. He lay against the stone wall, shaking with laughter.
“Mione,” he pleaded, breathless, “Please! I can’t – ha! – breathe!”
Something in me pitied him in that moment, and I lifted the hex. He got up, brushing himself off.
“That was wicked of you,” he said, mimicking Professor McGonagall to perfection. “You should never put hexes on idiots like me! You know I can’t measure up to you anyway.” He pouted and looked pitiful, but the next second –
“Rictusempra!” he cried, and hit me with the same charm. I tried to scream at him, through my helpless wails of laughter, but failed miserably. I slid down the wall, holding my sides, helpless, then –
It stopped. Ron stood over me, triumphant. “Ha!” he said loudly, his voice ringing down the halls. “See? We can be loud. No one can here us!”
I smiled, watching him from my place on the floor. Two lamplike eyes loomed out of the darkness, just I watched Ron disappear into it. There was a catlike screech, a yell of victory, and then a sinister hiss. From the sound of it, Ron had carried out the dearest ambition of many of Hogwarts’ students.
He came back out of the dark, grinning. I grinned too. Even I hated Mrs. Norris. But just around the corner, we could hear Filch wheezing and shuffling down a nearby corridor.
Ron’s expression of ecstasy turned immediately to one of horror. “Run,” he said in a hurried whisper, took my hand, and we bolted down the hallway, dashing in and out of empty classroom, knocking into suits of armor. Down this hallway and that we rushed, flattening ourselves against walls to hide from the occasional ghost we came upon, and once even from Peeves. Each time we thought we were safe, we would find Filch, puffing and wheezing, a few steps behind us. We rounded a corner and found a cabinet, the door to which Ron flung open whispering, “In here!” and sat, silent, waiting for Filch to catch up.
We must have waited five minutes in the dark before Filch found us. Truth be told, they were the longest five minutes of my life. Not only did I have to be silent, but there were distracting things going on around me. I could Ron breathing loudly, panting from the wild chase we had just experienced. His heart was beating rapidly and raggedly, and I could feel the veins in his arm twitching as they pumped the blood throughout him. Last, but most certainly not least, he had never let go of my hand, which he had neglected to realize. Any time a sound was made, by anything outside of our cabinet or by me, he would squeeze my hand a little bit tighter.
After a few minutes, we heard Filch shuffle around the corner, his wheezing worse than ever. My breathing had become loud and ragged, and now that everything had to be quiet, everything was louder than it should have been normally. I heard Mrs. Norris yowl and Filch shuffling about, muttering to himself. “They can’t have gone far, my sweet. Don’t worry, Mrs. Norris, we’ll get them.” It was rather, nerve-racking, sitting there in the dark beside Ron. But I didn’t move – not at all.
When we finally heard Filch trundling back down the hallway, murmuring to his cat, we unlatched the door and let out two giant sighs of relief.
“That,” Ron said, rolling out of the cabinet onto the floor, “was close.”
Standing up, he took my hand again and helped me out of the cabinet. When I came up in front of him, we were extremely close. I must have looked worried, or distracted perhaps, because he asked, “What’s wrong?” with a bit of conviction.
Maybe I looked a bit pale, because when I didn’t answer, he didn’t press me any further. Instead, we continued on our prefect routes. After a little while, he let go of my hand again.
“Mione?” he asked tentatively, perhaps to fill the silence.
I was still quiet. I didn’t have the composure to speak, and I still wanted to hear his voice. Confused, he stumbled on into the silence. “Have you ever …” His voice faded looking at me. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what he had wanted to say. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I could only hear him breathing as we passed countless portraits of sleeping witches and warlocks. After a while, he sighed and checked his watch.
“It’s late,” he said. “We can go back to bed now.”
I looked up at him, my eyes wide and full of wonder. I wanted to tell him then – I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him I loved him. I was too afraid of what it would do to me.
Giving up, I stopped beside him. “Thanks,” I murmured, and we walked back to the Common Room.
As we arrived, Ron knocked on the portrait of the Fat Lady, jerking her awake. “Back already?” she said grouchily. “Sometimes I think I just shouldn’t let them in anymore.”
“Femella adonis,” Ron said, and she swung open to let us through. Ron stepped up first and then pulled me through, the laughter gone from his eyes.
“Night, Mione,” he said, waving a hand back at me as he began to climb to boys staircase.
For a moment I stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do. But after I moment, I followed him, catching him at the top of the staircase. His brow was knitted in confusion and his red hair stood on end from the number of times he had pushed his hands through it. His blue eyes looked at me in wonder as I stood on tiptoe, whispered, “Night, Ron,” and kissed him on the cheek.
I can’t believe now that I left him there at the top of the stairs. There was such fire between us, such yearning. It was evident throughout school that all we wanted was to be together, nothing else. Nothing obstructed our way; no one told us we weren’t right for each other. We, in our youth, had plotted this fate for ourselves. Now I wish it hadn’t been. Now I wish that I could take it all away and go back to that night and hear him say in the darkened corridor, just beyond the North Tower staircase, “I love you.”
The number of times is mounting now that I have known regret, and I can’t do it anymore. My heart is breaking, and my life is being whittled away by uncertainty. And all I can do now is wait and hope that something goes my way.
I go to testify tomorrow. I go to betray one of the best friends I ever had. Yes, I know she is a Death Eater – Yes, I know that it is she who betrays. But I still can’t help thinking that maybe she could change.
We can’t change. We are bound by the decisions that we make. I chose to hate, to hurt, and I have received my comeuppance. Tomorrow, she will receive hers. I can’t believe I’m going to do this, and I know it will be right.
With that, I got up from my bed and wiped the tears from my eyes. The night was growing old, and I still hadn’t gotten to sleep. I had anticipated this. I took a long draft from the Sleeping Potion I had brewed earlier that evening and lay down against my pillows. In a few moments, I was asleep.
A/N- This really has nothing to do with the plot – it’s just a memory. I think it’s sort of necessary though, most because I really, really love this chapter.